


Painted Red

by hpmiddleearth



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Thorin Oakenshield, Cats, Dedication, Dwarves, Ents, F/M, Love, Painting, Panic Attacks, bad timing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:00:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5924176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpmiddleearth/pseuds/hpmiddleearth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about a Vära, a sort of Elf/Human race that dedicates themselves to art. Sofie encounters Thorin while taking a walk in the woods, and she had never thought that a simple walk would have such big consequences...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude ~ Flashback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys, I'm glad you take the time to read my work, I've worked on it for a really long time. My goal is to upload a chapter about every week, but it can turn out to be more often :)  
> I hope you enjoy it, for this is my first fanfiction ever *runs away and hides in a corner*

 50 YEARS AGO  
The wooden handle cut in my skin. It wasn't sharp at all, but had abraded my palm all day long, against the same spot again and again. But I didn't mind. I used the raw pain, let it flow down from my hand, through my fingertips into the wood, via the tiny hairs and past the paint to its destination. The pain became visible in my work, my masterpiece, the fruit of ages of experience. After ten years of hard work I finally made the last stroke. It was over. It was done.

And then, then came the solemn moment for which I had waited all that time. I walked around the hall, for my creation was huge and covered the whole wall. Worthy to be showed in Mordor. I took a deep breath and turned around slowly. And then I knew it was perfect. It was gruesome, indescribable, so fearsome and dark. I got scared of my own work for a brief moment, but I pulled myself together and looked upon it. I stood facing it for hours, searching for the tiniest flaw, a missed detail, a wrong shade, anything that distracted me from the complete picture. After hours and hours of staring I still had found nothing. It was really done. The complete perfection almost seemed alive, moving in the torch light. I walked to the big black throne, where the dark lord permitted his subjects in. Sauron. I was not afraid of him, knowing he would not harm me, but despite that I shivered in his presence. I bowed deeply. “My lord, my work here is done. I ask you to look upon it and then let me go in freedom, so that we both are satisfied and live forth in satisfaction and may part in peace.”

He descended his throne, the big black silhouette clearly illustrated against the light of the fire. When he passed me, I straightened and followed him to the colossal walls, covered by the result of my blood, sweat and tears. For the first time he examined it carefully, and we watched for a very long time. Filled of pride I stood there, behind the mightiest lord in whole Middle-Earth, who deemed my work worthy of his gaze, my work, that had become so perfect as I had never seen it. I knew I was good, but that I would ever be capable of something like this, I had never thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is like the prelude. I hope you enjoyed! xxx


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to Sofie and the encounter with an unexpected passenger...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos everybody! I know it might not be a perfect story, for this is my first ever fanfic, but it still means a lot to me that somebody actually thinks it worth reading ^^

NOW

'' _I'm bored._ '' That is the first thing that comes to my mind as I open my eyes. And not for the first time. It started a few weeks ago. Of course I have nothing to complain about, after I was done in Mordor I had traveled for thirty years, from one task to the other, until I finally found this beautiful place here. At the brim of the forest, with a stunning view on the Long Lake and the Lonely Mountain. I decided to build my home here. Of course, that was easier said than done.

So I had worked on it for the next four years. I did a better job then expected. Apparently I can do more than just painting. When my house was finally ready, I busied myself with decorating the place, I painted it completely, inside and out, beneath and above, in every nook and cranny you find nothing more than colours. That was done in a year. Then fifteen years are left between then and now. Long years they were, for almost nothing happened. The five years after I finished my house I began painting the trees, making all the surroundings a piece of art. And then came ten years of well-deserved rest after a hundred years of vigour.

It was great, I wasn't on a timetable, I could do whatever I wanted, was delightfully alone, removed from the fuss of the city. Completely happy. But the last few months that had changed. I became restless, wanted to do things, make things, but I had already painted everything around me, every tree, every stone, even my windows were covered with paint. I had also busied myself with inventing things for some time, and had succesfully coloured my hair, but soon the inventing was boring me. Anna had noticed the restlessness as well. I had met her when I had only arrived here for a few days. She nearly scared me to death when I suddenly saw an Ent wandering out of the bushes. Luckily, we could get along quite well and soon became friends.

With a smile on my face I think back of those times. I get up and make myself some breakfast. Koshka, the cat I had found alongside a road a few years back, walks over to me and I give her some food as well. She is never far away. When I'm washed and dressed, I walk outside to check the traps. I built them with Anna to keep Orcs or other enemies away from my house. Of course I have a sword, but it's a rather old one and I'm not very handy with it. So I had asked for Anna's help and we had set up some traps so I wouldn't be surprised by unwelcome visitors. Now, of course, I have to check them in case innocent creatures end up in them. Luckily, they are all empty today.

With a sigh I walk to the edge of the forest, to the abyss where the trees suddenly stop. There I sit down, legs hanging over the edge, and I look out over Lake Town, over the rebuilt city of Dale, and of course, a permanent view, the Lonely Mountain. After all those years, I still can't get enough of the sight, breathtakingly beautiful as it is. I could sit like this all day. The warm summer sun shines warm upon my head and I close my eyes for a moment. I all feels so perfect. But I still can't suppress the feeling that I miss something. Of course, I miss the painting, creating beautiful things, but that is not the only thing I miss. There is something else, though I cannot think of it, like when a song is stuck in your head but you don't know where you know it from and it comes back at the most unexpected of times.

All of a sudden, I hear a scream and at the same time a scared neigh. Koshka, who had been lying against me, jumps up and runs away, alarmed from the noise. I slowly rise from the ground. '' _Why did I leave my sword at home?_ '' I feel so powerless without, even though I can't handle it well. It still gives a secure feeling. '' _Okay, Sofie,_ '' I think to myself, ' _'just breathe. Hearing from the sounds, a man on a horse has walked into one of my traps. That means that he can't do you any harm and that you are safe. You won't even need your sword._ '' So I pull myself together and walk, carefully, to the source of the sounds.

It is not far. After about two minutes, I arrive at the place of the commotion. I can feel my heart beat throughout my whole body. I step out of the bushes and then I see something I hadn't really expected. It is a Dwarf, and it seems like his pony knocked him off when it walked into the trap. The poor beast has completely gone mad and the Dwarf tries in vain to calm it down. I look at the scene for a while and finally, the pony starts to cool down a bit thanks to the deep voice of the Dwarf. I must say it works a bit on me as well. His voice is deep and calming to listen to. Then the Dwarf notices me and he turnes to me. I can't stop myself from thinking: '' _Wow. He is handsome._ '' He has long, dark hair. Under it are two deep blue, penetrating eyes, which are examining my face as well, and his beard is perfectly trimmed. He also wears beautiful clothes. '' _Wait a second_ ,'' I think as my eyes dart back to his face, '' _that face... O dear! That can't be!'_ '' “Who are you?” asks Thorin Oakenshield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we meet our King Thorin! Let me know what you think so far ^^ please tell me if something needs to get better or if you have a request for the story :) Take care! xxx


	3. Chapter 2

I'm completely dumbstruck. '' _I accidentally trapped Thorin Oakenshield, king of Erebor! This can never end well... if I set him free he'll probably avenge himself, but I certainly cannot hold him here. What should I do?''_ “Who are you?” Thorin Oakenshield asks again, louder now, and with rage in his voice. The question brings me back to my senses. “I... I'm sorry, that trap was meant for Orcs and other enemies and...” my voice fades away. I can't resist his piercing gaze so I look to the ground, aware of the fact that I quite ruined it for myself. Eventually, my curiousity wins over my shame. “If you don't mind my asking, what the King under the Mountain is doing all by himself in the woods?”

“That is none of your business!” he says. Yes, I really screwed up. “Let me out,” he demands. _''Oh shit,''_ I think, _''I have no clue at all how this thing opens.''_ To seem polite, I walk in his direction, looking how in the world I can open it. I try some things, but it's not even close. Aware of the King's gaze, I start to feel more and more uncomfortable. _''Why does this stupid thing not open?''_

“Err, to be honest, I have no idea how to open this thing,” I say after a while, to end the awkward silence. “my friend put it here and I don't know how she did it.” I look back at him after all that time, and see that he still hasn't looked away from me, though most of the anger seems to have passed. “So what does a Vära do all alone in the woods?” he asks eventually.

“I was tired of the fuss of the common folk,” I say honestly, “so I searched for a place where I can do what I want in all peace and quiet.” '' _So much for the peace and quiet,''_ I can't help but thinking.

Just when the silence starts to become almost unbearably awkward, Anna approaches. Luckily, an Ent doesn't miss anything going on in their own forest. She opens the trap, and after having a brief conversation with us and made sure that Thorin is of no harm, she goes on with... what Ents do. Thorin and I are alone again.

“Can I offer you anything to drink, Your Majesty?” I ask as polite as possible.

“Please, call me Thorin,” he responds. “And I wouldn't mind a cup of tea. Thank you... ?”

“Sofie Narbeleth,” I say quickly. “but, please, call me Sofie.”

Then we walk home together. “Did you do all of this yourself?” Thorin asks while pointing at the coloured trees, unable to suppress the awe in his voice. I smile. Finally I can actually talk to someone, have a real conversation, show them the work my hands created. Anna is very kind of course, but she is and always will be an Ent, and that means she isn't really the talking type. Now I realise how I missed the company.

“Yes, all of them,” I say with a smile, and after that it is not difficult to talk the entire afternoon, about anything and everything, Thorin about gold and precious gems and I about colours and brushes, but we don't only talk about our passions, but also about ourselves and our childhoods and our friends and I realise I haven't been able to talk to someone that easy, even before I moved into the forest. Soon it gets dark, before we even notice, and it's too late for Thorin to move on.

“You can stay the night here if you want,” I offer.

“Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden.”

“No, of course you're not! If you were a burden, I wouldn't offer it. Take my bed, I can sleep on the couch for one night.”

“No, if I stay here, I wouldn't want to also take in your bed. I'll go on the couch.”

I try to convince him, but Thorin is very convincing himself and at least as stubborn and he won't budge, so I don't really stand a chance. Thus a little while later we say goodnight to each other and I disappear upstairs. I haven't slept that well in months. Maybe because it was an impressive day, but it could also be because the hole in my chest, the missing something, could just be found. But when I wake the following morning, I know that that isn't the case. Something is still missing, though it is less obvious than the day before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Narbereth means October in Sindarin. I chose that name because I (Sofie) am born in October and love the autumn ^^
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will be on in a few minutes, I just have to change a few things. Thanks again for the kudos, you are all lovely! :) xxx


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thorin takes his leave, but not before asking something of Sofie...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is chapter 3 already! (yeah okay, chapter 4 if you count the prologue.) I have had immense fun while writing this, especially when I pictured Thorin cuddling with a cat! ^^ Oops, spoiler.

I'm woken by sounds from downstairs. At first I think it's an animal, of worse, an Orc, but then I remember everything that happened yesterday. How stupid of me, I should have left the curtains open, then I could have woken up earlier. I bet Thorin awoke early, and he must have waited for me all that time. Oops. I quickly put on my dress and brush my hair a bit and then I hury down the stairs. A smile lights up Thorin's face when he sees me. “I'm sorry,” I apologize, “I never get up early, I must have overslept.”

“That's okay,” Thorin says. “Your house is beautiful, I wouldn't be done looking at all the pictures even after fifty years.”

I smile, a bit taken aback by the compliment. “Thank you.” Then Koshka comes walking in. I haven't seen her since she ran from Thorin yesterday, and I'm glad she is fine. I give her some food and then go to the kitchen to make some breakfast. When I return, Koshka has curled up on Thorin's lap and he strokes her soft fur with a fond look in his eyes. "I didn't know she could purr that loud," I say. Thorin starts at my voice and quickly stops stroking her, as if he didn't want to be seen cuddling with a cat. I chuckle at the faint blush on his cheeks.

When we have finished breakfast, Thorin has to resume his journey. I quite regret it, but I don't let it show. I don't want him feeling guilty about his leave. Besides, he had planned this week to be on his own. And I respect and understand that, needing twenty years of being on my own myself.

Thus, I put on a happy face. “Well, have fun!”

“Thank you. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“And for me as well. I never thought I would catch a Dwarven King when I asked Anna to put up those traps.” He laughs at the joke. Thorin has a beautiful laugh, what with his deep voice. This should be the moment where Thorin mounts his pony and rides away never to meet me again, but he lingers. “Sofie?”

“Yes?” There is a moment of silence before he continues. “Erebor has never been painted.”

“That's a pity,” I say, assuming where he's going with the remark. But I don't dare hoping it. Erebor! I have dreamed about it since I was a little kid. “I bet it would look magnificent with some colours, though it must already be stunning. I'm sorry to say I have never been inside Erebor.” A moment of silence again. Then he finally decides to ask. “Do you want to paint Erebor?”

_''O dear, did he really just ask that? That can't be! It was always my dream, but I never believed it could actually come true!''_ I almost start crying, but I pull mysef together and somehow manage to say “Yes!”. He smiles broadly, and without saying anything else he mounts his pony and rides away. _''He forgot to tell me when I'm expected.''_ With that thought still circling around in my mind, he disappears between the bright colours of the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, once more, for the kudos! It means a lot to me to know that people actually enjoy my work :) Feel free to comment if you think some things can be better or when you have a suggestion or question :) Of course I wouldn't mind if you just comment because you like it :P Take care! xxx


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sofie reaches Erebor and meets two new Dwarves...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than the ones I already uploaded :) I hope you'll enjoy it instead of falling asleep ;)

I spend the rest of the day doubting. I hadn't taken tasks for twenty years now, hadn't come out of my hermit existance even once. The idea of suddenly having to live among people, frightens me a bit to be honest. I'm afraid I have lost all social skills. It did go quite well with Thorin though. I was under the impression he even thought of me as a nice person. Otherwise, he wouldn't have asked me to paint Erebor. Would he? Painting Erebor... I always dreamed of it... I must be out of my mind to not do it, but it all seems so surreal, so fake... but I made my decision at the moment the words left Thorin's lips. _''I'm going to paint Erebor!''_ I set all my doubts away and singing and whistling I start packing, preparing for the adventure that came knocking upon my door yesterday.

Koshka, not being used to the fuss I make, sits in a corner, staring at me with big eyes, while I repair the big chariot, collect my stuff, throw out unimportant things, realize it doesn't all fit and throw out more, while I collect food for the road, empty my wardrobe, make new brushes on the last minute, refill all shades of paint, get water and everything else to prepare for the big journey. After all, I won't come back here for quite a while. Maybe I will never come back, I suddenly realize.

Oh well, actually I don't really care about coming back. It's nice here, but I hope one day to return to Roderlo, the birth place of almost all Värai, including me. It is so beautiful, that I'm not going to describe it, for it would never suffice.The only thing I can say, to give a rough scetch, is that the village is entirely made of tree houses, with a complex network of rope bridges connecting every building, and that there is no spot visible that doesn't have colour on it. It's been painted and painted over by generations and generations of Värai, who made it one big piece of art together.

Almost every Vära returns there, when they have made their masterwork, or to start a family and simply enjoy life. I'm determined to return to Roderlo someday, with the man (or woman) of my dreams by my side. Only then my life will be complete. I only have to find them.

The next few days are killing me. I'm almost ready to travel, I have retrieved my horses from the meadow, I have loaded all my stuff on the chariot, but small things keep popping up in my head which I had forgotten, and everything added up, it gives a lot of pressure. Koshka keeps even closer to me then usual, she is almost glued to my legs. Well, I don't blame her, she feels something big is coming up of course. I just hope she likes Erebor. But I don't think she'll get bored there quickly, Erebor is so big and beautiful, nobody would turn that down.

Then, at last, the day of my departure arrives. Anna, whom I'm going to miss most of all, and I, have a last conversation, which is long and sad and many tears stream down our faces while having it. It is never easy to say goodbye to your loved ones, but I have known Anna for twenty years now, and she has been the only form of contact in those years, so that makes it all extra hard.

Then I yoke the horses in front of the chariot, check the contents of it one last time, look if Koshka has jumped aboard, and I can finally leave. I haven't been this excited and nervous since Mordor. I shake the thought off of me, which is not that difficult, because after all I'm on a chariot heading to the Lonely Mountain!

The unpleasant feeling comes back to me, that feeling you have when you go somewhere for longer than a day, as if you have forgotten hundred of thousands of things, but you can think of nothing you haven't got with you what you should have. Only when Koshka crawls on my lap and when I let the horses go to a calm trot, I can shake the feeling off a bit and relax, if only a little.

After three days, the moment comes when I arrive at the Lonely Mountain. Up close, it looks even more beautiful, so majestic, so huge, it's almost indescribable. I take a deep breath and then I pass the guards, allowing them to take my horses to the stables.

The beauty of the mountain immediately hits me like a bomb the moment I walk through the gates. I can't quite describe in words just how magnificent Erebor is, because, again, it would never suffice. It is in any case more beautiful then I have ever imagined, and that says quite a lot, given the fact that I have a pretty rich imagination. I walk to the throne room, and there he sits. The King under the Mountain. Thorin Oakenshield. He looks nothing like the Dwarf I had befriended in the woods, he looks... majestic. I can't really put it any other way. Instead of plain, travel-worn clothes, he wears a thick, furry blue cloak, with beneath it gorgeous clothes, studded with gems, and his hair is not greasy and entangled, but decently washed and braided, with on top of it a huge iron crown.

The grand throne is crowned with the Arkenstone, more beautiful than any other jewel I have ever seen, brighter than the sun and the moon together. Thorin looks a bit bored, but when he sees me coming, his face is lit by a bright smile.

I sink into a deep bow, like my father taught me, and wait until Thorin decides to say something. I hear footsteps and when Thorin starts speaking, I hear he is just in front of me.

“You don't have to bow to me, Sofie.”

I stand up, a bit shy, but he doesn't say anything else. He just looks at me, right into my eyes with that penetrating stare.

“You look good,” I say, to avoid an awkward silence.

“Thanks. You look great as well.” Not that I look different than a week ago, but it's a nice thing to say.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

When I enter my new home, Koshka has already occupied my bed. She immediately jumps off it when she hears me and I lift her up while I look around. It's a nice house, though very different than what I'm used to, but then again, not many people have houses carved out of a mountain. I am however under the impression that Thorin has given me a better house than a subject would normally deserve.

I just got a small guide around from Fíli, a kind Dwarf, and I had seen a lot of houses that looked much simpler than the one I'm standing in right now. Maybe it is because Thorin and I are friends, and that's why he doesn't see me as a subject. I walk around the building and discover that the bathroom is amazing. In the centre of the room, there is a huge, marble bathtub, already filled to the brim with water. It is big enough to swim in.

I also notice that the floor is lovely warm. I dig into the memory of the guide I got from Fíli, and after a while I remember walking past big ovens, then up a staircase, through a corner, in the direction of my house, meaning... my bathroom is built just above one of the ovens. That also means this is not just a house to give away to anybody, let alone someone you just met a week ago. Oh well, I'm not complaining. With a satisfied feeling I submerge in the warm water.

The next day Fíli brings me to the library, as I had asked yesterday. Suddenly I recall something.

“Fíli?” I ask.

“Yes?”

“Didn't you tell meyesterday that you are Thorin's nephew?”

“Yes, I am. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I mean, if you're the King's nephew, then aren't you too, you know, important to guide people?” He laughs. His laugh is happy and catching. I really start to feel comfortable around him.

“Usually I indeed am not a guide. But Thorin asked me to show you around a little, he said he needed someone who knew Erebor well. I had the impression he would have done it himself, but well, he is a king and always busy with things. So he asked me, and to be honest I'm not complaining, for now I have quite some leisure time.”

“That's nice. I don't want to be a burden.”

“Of course you're not. Here is the library, as you had requested. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

I thank him and enter the library. Once more, Erebor surprises me with its beauty. Infinite rows of bookcases face me, filled with books and scrolls of parchment and sheets of paper, and I even see some tablets. The rows of shelves reach endlessly far, so far that I almost can't see where they end.

From the ceiling, covered by thousands of small pieces of glass, golden beams of sunlight stream inside, lighting the many tiny dustflakes floating around in the air. I stare at it all open-mouthed. The librarian approaches me. He looks kind, with a long white beard and a gentle, smiling face. He looks rather old, but moves surprisingly youthful.

“Hello, I'm Balin,” he says. “You must be Sofie! Nearly every soul in Erebor already knows of your arrival. The news has spread like fire. Can you resist the curious stares?”

“Yeah, I just try to ignore them. I hope they'll get used to me after a while,” I say.

“I bet so. What can I do for you? At least, I take you're here for a reason?”

“Yes, that's correct. I'm looking for texts about dragons, are any of those present here?”

“But of course, lots and lots of them.” With so many shelves, I'd find it hard too believe if there weren't any. “Please, have a seat, I'll search for some interesting tales.”

After having waited a while, Balin comes back in sight. Well, actually only the part of him under his waist is visible, the rest is hid behind a stack of scrolls and books.

“Wow, thanks,” I say, “I hadn't counted on that many. I think I can last a while with these.”

I wonder why everybody is so kind to me, but because I can't get an answer to that question anyway, I shrug and get to work.

After hours, I'm still not finished, but Balin sends me away, for outside the night has fallen and we both need some rest. I walk home, glad that I still know the way through all the corridors and corners. I long to crawl into my warm, soft bed, but when I reach my door, I see Thorin standing there, surprisingly. He must have waited for me for ages. I wonder how long exactly. “Thorin? What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Sofie, I just wanted to visit you, to ask if you like it here, and we hadn't really spoken anymore so I thought I'd step by, but I saw you weren't at home, so I dicided to wait a little while.” _''A little while? Hmm, maybe he indeed just arrived.''_

“Oh, that's very kind of you, but I was in the library, just looking up some background information. You really didn't have to wait that long!”

“You search until late in the evening for background information? You must be really serious about it.”

“Of course I'm serious about it, I'm serious about everything I create,” I respond. “Moreover, if I ruin this, I ruin Erebor, and I don't want that on my conscience.”

“I don't think you easily ruin anything.”

I smile. “Thank you.” I open my door and let Thorin inside. I decide not to ask why he gave me this kind of house.

“So, what do you think of Erebor? Does it live up to your high expectations?” Thorin asks after he sits down in a comfy chair. I put a kettle on the fire and sit down in a chair facing Thorin. “It's even more wonderful than I had imagined! Everything is so beautiful, and the people are all so kind! I think I can quite settle down here.”

“I'm happy to hear that,” Thorin says with a smile. It feels just as familiar as a week ago. Again, our words stream continuously, and I'm also getting used to his gaze a little. I will never completely be able to withstand it, but at least I can look at him normally. After roughly an hour (I'm not sure, my inner clock is still a bit confused owing to the lack of daylight in the mountain) Thorin and I say goodbye and I lay down in my bed.

I wonder in what kind of house Thorin lives. I bet it's as majestic as himself, which is quite majestic, I have to admit. My tired thoughts wander off, away from Thorin, away from the Lonely Mountain, to the marvellous Roderlo... _''Oh, how I miss that place. How I miss the bright colours, the beautiful lightfall, the beautiful...''_ And then I finally fall into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Progress! Thanks a lot for the kudos, I love you guys! Take care xxx


	6. The Blood Red Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visions at night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this might be a bit confusing, but it didn't make it less fun to write! ^^ Enjoy!

“ _Gold. I smelled gold. Hopes of gold. Hopes of gold, as far as the eye reaches. I lifted my heavy head. The time had come. Finally I would take my treasure. My gold! I spread my wings and took flight. I started the long journey south..._

_Clouds beneath me. Clouds, a shadow cast upon them by my huge body. And then, like an island in the middle of the ocean, I saw the tip of a mountain, far, far away on the horizon. I was filled with terrible hunger, hunger for gold, but first, blood had to flow._

_Pine trees were cast aside by the hurricane that was my wings. I could now see the Lonely Mountain and the city of Dale clearly. First I would lay the city into ashes. The flames already rose, rolled over my tongue, licked my teeth, and then the city was on fire. Terrified screams from hundreds of Men arose from Dale and I was filled with a cold joy. Suddenly, I felt something in my chest. I looked down, but I couldn't get the spot into sight. Someone must be shooting at me! Rage overtook me and I bombed the city with it. Dale didn't stand a chance._

_The gold would be mine! The fear, fear of thousands of Dwarfs. I could smell it in the air. It was filled with it. I rammed the gates and flames filled the hall. Dwarven blood. Dwarven meat. Flighting Dwarves were everywhere around me. They would all die. All of them! Again, the mountain was filled with smoke and flames. And then I finally got there. The treasury! It was even bigger than I had thought, more than I had dreamed of. And there I saw it. The heart of the mountain. The Arkenstone!_

_\--_

_Curse that little Hobbit. Curse those filthy Dwarfs. Curse that midget of an Oakenshield, I would get that scoundrel and suck the marrow from his bones! But first that ugly little village, those barrel-trading Laketown Men. Fools! They should know that I, Smaug the terrible, can't be deceived. The first flames already hit the roofs and soon everything was being devoured by the fire. It spread fast by the wooden houses with their straw roofs. The smell of Human blood filled the air once more. Then my eye fell on an archer, standing on a lonely tower amidst the burning village. A descendant of that foul Girion, with his ugly black arrows! I approached him and heaved my head to spit out the flame that would end his miserable life, but at that very moment I felt an icy pain pierce through my hide. A black arrow! Roaring I flew upwards, but the freezing cold arrow shaft sucked all of the energy from my body. I felt the fire in my body extinguish, and then I hit the water of the lake...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was another chapter. And yes, I gave it a name :) thought it was worthy of one? Tell me what you think ^^  
> Thanks again for the kudos I love you guys xxx


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We (finally) find out what Thorin wants Sofie to paint, and meet another Dwarf!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out: panic attack in this chapter! I should also say that a 'masterpiece' is a very important thing for the Värai. That's all for now :) Enjoy!

I wake up. Then I notice that Koshka is brushing against my arm. She is clearly hungry. Is it that late already? All of a sudden, the dream pops back into my head. What was that? It felt so real, nothing like the usual. Then a memory comes floating to the surface of my mind, one from hundreds of years ago, when I was a student in Roderlo. _Your masterpiece will come to you, it will ask you to be made. You don't create the masterpiece, the masterpiece creates itself through you._

_''But... that can't be!''_ I think. _''I've already made my masterpiece in Mordor! Nobody can have two masterpieces! This is impossible! Why is this happening to me? Could it be that after all Mordor was not... but all those years... and it was so perfect... could it be that something that glorious isn't my masterpiece? That it's just perfect, but nothing more? It could be, it could be, but...''_

I suddenly feel very, very lonely. If I were at home, back in Roderlo, I could have asked my father, who has always been there for me and knew an answer to every question. _''But I'm not at home. I'm stuck in this stupid rock, without a beam of sunlight or a spot of colour that makes me think of home. And there is no one of my kind here. I'm the only one. I'm alone. I'm alone and hopelessly confused, lost... I need somebody who understands what's happening to me! Why is this happening to me?!''_

I get a feeling as if I can't breathe. The walls move closer to me, the grey stones without colour. I run out of the room, away from the place where the fearsome vision came to me. I run through the equally stiffling corridors, I can't breathe, I have to get out! I run on and on, but I can't find the way out, I'm lost, and the walls keep coming closer, almost crush me under their colourless weight... How am I ever going to get out of here? I try to inhale, but I can't, the stiffling feeling only gets worse...

Then, when I least expect it, a gentle face gets into my visual field. He looks worried and says something, but I can't hear him. Filled with shame I try to walk away, but I fall down. The Dwarf only just catches me and carefully lets me down so I can sit.

“You're Sofie, aren't you?” the Dwarf asks. “I'm Bofur. I'm a friend of Thorin. Did something happen to you?”

I don't get further than a few inarticulate words. I notice my face is wet of tears and I quickly wipe them away. Finally, after a few minutes of trying to get control over my panic attack desperately, I can breathe again.

“You wouldn't understand,” I respond. “I wanted to go out, get some fresh air, but I couldn't find the way out and then I was lost and...” I nearly start crying again.

“Easy now. You're safe here. Shall I bring you back to your house?”

I shake my head. I don't want to go there. I just can't bear being in that place for now. I want to go out, feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, breathe the cool air, unclutter my confused thoughts. “Could you maybe bring me outside?”

“Of course,” Bofur says. “And don't worry. I won't tell Thorin. We've never met,” he adds with a wink. I smile at him gladly, happy and a bit taken aback by his kindness. Everything will turn out to be alright in the end.

 

The fresh air really helps me. I inhale deeply and immediately feel better. I retrieved one of my horses from the stables and now I'm riding in the direction of Dale. I decide to treat myself to something delicious. I try to sort out my thoughts while I ride. _''Fifty years ago, I made a perfect creation, which I thought was my masterpiece. Now I suddenly dream about something I still have to paint: Smaug. An obvious dead Smaug, as a sign of the victory of Thorin and his company. And it wasn't just a dream, it was more than that. You could call it a prophecy, if it weren't for the fact it already happened. A masterpiece often comes to people in that form. Maybe I should just try this. If it turns out to be a beautiful piece of art, but nothing more, then it was just a special dream, nothing more, and then my creation in Mordor indeed is my masterpiece. If this isn't the case though, and Smaug will be my masterpiece, then so be it, I'll just have to accept it.''_ I decide to do just that, and after I've eaten a delicious waffle I return to Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for the kudos! It really makes my day when people like what I write ^^ xxx


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some threats, some answers, some ignorance, and a little bit of Thorin :) I'd say it's a perfect recipe for a nice story ^^

I don't need the library anymore, so I'm sitting behind my desk in front of a scroll of parchment, a piece of charcoal balancing on my fingers. I'm like this for over an hour already, motionless, facing the empty scroll. But I just can't get to a decision, doubting about everything, the design, the colours, the position, the brushes, the shades, but nothing really convinces me. Maybe it is because of the confusion the dream brought with itself. Maybe it is because this could be my masterpiece. Or maybe it is because I'm afraid to do something to Erebor I'll regret later.

For the umpteenth time I sigh deeply and then I decide to give up. I throw down the piece of charcoal and stretch out. At that moment, I hear someone knocking at the door. I get up (reluctantly, this chair is really comfy) and open the door. I had expected Thorin, or Fíli, maybe even Bofur, but facing me is a Dwarf I had never met before. To be honest I'm a bit scared of him, he looks really fierce. He is very tall for a Dwarf and muscled, with a rough, black beard, but the top of his head is bald. He looks at me judgingly.

“Hello,” I say friendly.

The Dwarf doesn't reply. Without an invitation he steps over the threshold. I had already heard of the lack of manners of Dwarfs, but Thorin was very decent all the time. Apparently that doesn't apply to every Dwarf. “Can I do something for you?” I ask hesitant.

“No.” He folds his arms and glares at me from under his heavy brow. “I came to warn you. I have heard about the Värai and their withcraft. Thorin's been sick already, and I don't want to have to see him like that again. If I ever see you use your sorcery around here, I will personally ensure that it stops. Do you understand?”

_''Oh dear. I hadn't thought about that yet. He's right, though. The Värai use an ancient magic while painting, especially while painting our masterwork, because we put all our emotion, the pain, the joy, the sorrow, in it. And it is said indeed that it has an enchanting effect on those easily affected. We don't do it on purpose though. At least, I have never deliberately used magic and I have no idea how to.''_

“It's clear,” I say. “Though you should know it's not deliberate, so if you want to protect Thorin you'll have to do it yourself, for I cannot control myself without my creation failing. Furthermore I prefer hard work above being attractive and wooing anybody who crosses my path. I hope you understand,” I add scornful. I step aside to make clear he can leave. The Dwarf lingers for a second, glaring at me even harder. Then he walks out of the door. When he passes me, he adds: “You better watch your step.”

Well, not everybody can like you. And I can't like everybody either, at least that's clear. Although, it wasn't completely malicious. There was a trace of concern in it. Maybe he is just trying to protect his king. _Thorin's been sick already, and I don't have to see him like that again._ But of course! The Dragon Sickness! I had heard or read about it somewhere... How Thorin was enchanted by the curse of the Dwarven treasure, how he suffered from it and nearly had become a slave of it, but then he fought back and overpowered it. But that was before all of the Dwarves came to Erebor, and the angry Dwarf at my doorstep had made it sound like he'd been there himself...

Then he must be a member of Thorin's company! Oh, I can hit myself in the face, how blind I've been! I run to the library and find a book titled _There and Back Again_. I start scanning the pages, and after a few I'm lucky. Dwalin! That must be the Dwarfs name. He matches the describal perfectly. Dwalin was one of Thorins closest friends, but Thorin couldn't tell a friend from a foe under the influence of the sickness and he even threatened to kill Dwalin... Oh no! Now I understand everything. The anger, the need to protect him... he doesn't want to have to live in that nightmare again. I feel so guilty about how I behaved to him. I want to make it up, but I have no idea where to begin... _''I can at least do what he asked me. When I'm working, I'll take care that Thorin doesn't come close to me. Nothing will happen to him. He'll be fine.''_

The next week I make many decisions: I decide to keep the conversation with Dwalin secret, for it's no use talking about it, and I don't want to do anybody any harm. I also decide about Smaug, and I have already made a nice sketch. Just a few finishing touches left, and then I can show it to Thorin and finally get to work. I'm looking forward to it!

  
\--

 

I arrive at Thorin's throne and incline my head, not wanting to abandon my manners completely. I show him the sketch. I did quite a good job; it is clear that the dragon was a mighty one, and when it's coloured in it'll seem like it is real, but I made it obvious that the dragon is dead. I don't want to scare anyone off, of course. I'm really rather proud of it, especially because sketches, unlike paintings, are not my strength.

Thorin's reaction, though, is more than I had hoped for. He's clearly impressed. “Wow. Sofie. This is... perfect.” I can see it brings up memories in his mind. The smile that had appeared on his face when I said I had finished the sketch, disappeared, and instead he looks a bit sad. I wonder what he thinks about, but I probably don't even want to know. Then Thorin seems to realize he's not the only one in the room. “You can get to work,” he says, and turns his back to me and walks to sit on the throne.

I quickly walk to the place. It's not far, it lays near the throne room. There is a sort of cilinder-shaped gap in the ground with a flat floor. It's about ten meters deep, and a bridge is built across it. I have to paint Smaug on the floor, so a rope ladder has been hung over the rim of the gap. It will take a while before I'll get all of my stuff and myself down there alive, but I think I'll manage.

A few hours later I finally have everything in the gap, placed against the wall. I take a deep breath and then I get started. I begin by marking the edges with stones, pebbles, twigs and pieces of rope. It takes all day, for I have to calculate all the distances exactly. In the evening, I fall down on my soft bed, content with the work I did.

Now I can get used to the routine again. I get up early, have a fast breakfast, work on Smaug until noon, then I go home to have lunch, then back to work until the evening falls, go home again, this time to have dinner, back to work again until late in the evening, and when I'm done I fall in my bed, exhausted, only to get up early and repeat everything again. That's what my life will look like for the coming years. And I'm glad; I have rested for so long that I'm full of new energy. The only disadvantage is that Koshka will get a little lonely. On the other hand, she can go wherever she wants in all of Erebor, so maybe it won't be that bad.

The second day I start painting. I descend the ladder, prepare the paint, and then I feel it. I feel it from the first drop of paint that drips from the hairs of my brush and touches the surface of the stone. An ancient magic, flowing out of my fingertips at long last. And then I know for sure that this will become my masterwork. I have never felt anything like this before, not even in Mordor.

It feels both strange and familiar, as if I've always known it was there, but just never realized. It gives me so much energy that I feel like I work twice as fast as I normally do. I feel the magic dance around me, up, out of the gap, and spread there in the air, like a strong scent that spreads through the air. And I feel the power, the attraction, it's so strong! Then I think of Dwalin's warning. _If I ever see you use your sorcery around here, I will personally ensure that it stops. Do you understand?_

“ _Now I understand what he was so scared of'',_ I think. _''If I feel the power that strong, how will others react to it?''_ Concerned, I look up. Nobody in sight. I draw in a deep breath. _''Thorin can't come close to me when I'm working. But how do I manage that? I'm down here for most of the time, and I bet he'll come to look at the progress quite often. What am I to do? I need to ask somebody, but who? Somebody whom Thorin will listen to and who knows Thorin well, but also somebody who's wise...”_ And then I know just the person.

 

\--

 

“Hello Sofie! I haven't seen you in a few days. How is work?”

“Oh, it's fine, I just began painting today. It's looking okay.”

“That's good to hear,” Balin responds. “but I take it you didn't come here without a reason?”

“No, you're right,” I say, and, a bit hesistant, I explain everything. Balin is a good listener; he doesn't interrupt me and listens intently to what I have to say. When I've poured everything out, he thinks deeply for a moment.

“You're right,” he says in the end. “Although the Väraian magic works slightly more complicated than enchanting everyone who is near the Vära in question.

It consist merely of love. Only somebody whom you love, or who loves you, can be influenced by it.” Pure relief streams through my veins. “So it's harmless for Thorin?” I ask, just to be sure.

“Not necessarily,” Balin says. “you see, love isn't all that clear. In fact, it rarely happens that someone falls in love with anybody at first sight. You can, for example, meet someone whom you have no feelings for at all in the beginning, but you can fall in love with them years later. And the Väraian magic works as a sort of... indicator in these cases; it doesn't change anything about the love itself, but speeds it up. Love that would've stood out of sight for years in normal cases, can already be felt after months, if not weeks. This can come from both sides, but also from the side of the 'not-Vära' alone, and in some cases even from the side of the Vära alone, though that is very rare.” Now I finally understand. Relieved, I take a deep breath. Thorin and I are just friends, nothing more, and he won't be influenced by me. “I understand,” I say. “Thank you, Balin, I really owe you one.”

Whistling, I get back to work and let the magic dance through the air freely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, thanks for the kudos! You are lovely persons, all of you ^^ xxx


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new mysterie comes and goes, and Sofie meets some new people. Also, Koshka :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys, another update is here! I don't really know if I'm perfectly content with this chapter, but well, it'll have to do :/ Hope you enjoy!

The next day around 11 o'clock – I'm at work once again – I hear footsteps approaching. I look up and see, suprisingly, Dwalin. I climb the ladder and walk in his direction, curious of what he wants. “Hello,” he says. “Balin came to me yesterday, after he'd spoken to you. I've come to make amends.” I open my mouth to say something in return, but Dwalin is faster. “I did it to protect Thorin. He suffered a lot from the Dragon Sickness you know, and I was afraid of something similar happening again. I now understand that you don't mean any harm and that your magic probably won't affect Thorin, and even if it does, I wish you the very best.”

 _“Well, that was unexpected,”_ I think. “I... thank you, Dwalin. I completely understand. I would want to protect him as well, if I stood in your shoes. Don't worry about him. Thorin and I are friends, true, but nothing more than that, I promise.”

Then a smile lights up Dwalin's face and smoothes out the wrinkels in his forehead, and he walks away. I stare after him a while, still a bit confused, but then I resume my work, glad to have made it up to him.

At home – I can say I do feel at home now – I light up my pipe and satisfied I inhale deeply. I had found a few pipeweed plants in the forest by accident and I had taken care of them, and since then I have been able to fill multiple barrels of it. And you won't hear me complaining about the quality, either. A purring Koshka curls up on my lap and – even though it's a very peaceful and satisfied moment – the feeling that something's missing is stronger than ever, and the hole in my chest is almost tangible, and I feel so very alone again. The feeling overpowers me and tears begin to form in my eyes, but I blink them away.

I put Koshka aside and run back to my painting. There I go on with my work and put my pain and sorrow in it, my tears now flowing through my arms and onto the stone surface; and the magic shimmers around me, twisting the air like you see on a hot summer's evening.

I go on for hours like that, and it isn't until 9 o'clock that I realize I forgot to eat anything. I get up, a bit dizzy, and look around. I made a lot of progress, and it starts to look wonderful already in my eyes. I look up, and it seems as if somebody only just vanishes from my sight. I climb up the ladder, but nobody is around. I shrug. I must have imagined it. Probably because of the hunger.

A while later I'm lying in my double bed with a filled stomach, and I stare at the empty side of the mattress, imagining how it would be if that half would've been occupied. And I don't know that, a few miles away, an exhausted Thorin is doing exactly the same thing.

 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

 

In the weeks that follow I make even more progress. I have already finished the basis and start the next step. Also, I manage to find my way around Erebor slightly better, and I get to know Bofur, Fíli, Dwalin and Balin, and of course Thorin a lot better. I think I can call each of them my friend, and that thought causes a warm feeling and I'm more happy than I have been in years. I also get to know Kíli, Fíli's brother. He's very kind and I like to spend time with him. There is only one thing that keeps gnawing at me: often when I'm painting, I have the feeling that somebody is watching me from above, but when I look up, there's never anyone there, only the occasional flash of a cloak, as if someone dives away whenever I look. Sometimes I also see a strand of hair, but never enough to identify the colour. I try not to think about it too much, but that is easier said than done.

I have now become quite used to the constant presence of the magic, but that probably isn't the case for others. And I can still feel its power, and if _I_ can feel it like that, how will it feel for others? _“I want to know who it is!”_ That thought runs through my head for the thousandth time. And I just can't seem to get him into my sight. So I try another tactic. It is about two o'clock now, I've just returned from home. And I feel the gaze upon me again. “Why are you hiding?” I ask without looking up. No answer. “I know you're there. It's no use hiding from me. Someday, someone will find out. Who are you? Come out of the shadows!” Still, I receive no answer, and yet I can feel his presence. “Don't think you can hide from me forever!” Then I decide to give up. Frustrated, I kick the wall. Ouch.

“ _Now how will I ever find out?”_ I ask myself when I get home. Koshka jumps from the sofa to greet me, as usual, and brushes against my legs. _“But of course! Why didn't I think of that earlier!”_ Koshka has shown to be smarter than the average cat more than once now. She even managed to get free from one of Anna's traps one time. Then, slowly, an idea takes form in my head. It's time to teach Koshka some of my skills.

A day later, I have completed the plan. If I can teach Koshka how to draw in the ashes of the fireplace, it's possible it can succeed. Then the plan will go as follows: I take Koshka with me to work, and hide her somewhere, behind a pillar or something. She'll wait for me until I get out of the gap and if I'm lucky, she'll see who's watching me all the time. Then I'll take her home and she'll draw his face in the ashes, and I will know who he is. I must admit, it isn't a watertight plan, far from it, but it's the best I can think of right now, and it won't hurt to try.

So the following hour, I try to let Koshka draw my face. First without result, as expected, but after a few hours, she begins to draw some contours, surprisingly. I can't distinguish my face, not at all, but it went better than I had dared hoping.

Six days later, Koshka can draw faces. And I can recognise them. So when I leave to work, I take Koshka with me, and hide her behind the statue of the muscled miner near the brim of the gap. I go to work, and have to struggle to keep my concentration where it needs to be. Only four hours left before I know who it is.

The time passes infuriatingly slow, but finally, after what seems to be days, I climb the ladder and run home, knowing that Koshka will follow me. I walk in and put Koshka in front of the fireplace. And then she begins drawing lines in the ash. Slowly but steadily, the lines form a face, and the face starts getting more and more detailed. I close my eyes, draw a deep breath and count to ten. Then I open them again and see, finally, what Koshka has drawn. And at that moment, I know just how badly I've fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, again, for the kudos, every single one makes my day a whole lot brighter :) And I can't say it enough, if you think something can get better, just say so! I won't get angry or anything :P Though I might hunt you down and kill you in your sleep... heheh just kidding :* I love you no matter what ^^ See you soon!


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A revellation, and then stuff happens... basically

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry for waiting so long with this update, but I have been so busy with school and then I went to Rome for a week, so I kinda didn't have time... Extra long chapter though, to make it up to you :) and, in my opinion, my best chapter yet. Much stuff happening! yay :) plus a conversation with Bofur, which you secretly needed but didn't know ;) anyways, have fun! xxx

Indeed. The face of Thorin Oakenshield is lying in my ashes. I rub my eyes and squeeze them shut, as if I'm trying to blink his face away, but of course it doesn't change a thing. _“Why Thorin?”_ I ask myself. _“Thorin is my friend! And the_ King of Erebor _! What will everybody say about him stooping to my level? Besides, I don't see anything in_ him _! I mean, he certainly isn't ugly and I like him a lot, but I don't have feelings for him. Not like that. Or do I? Maybe it's coming?”_ I groan, desperate. _“What do I do now? Maybe it was better when I didn't know who it was...”_

Angry, I kick the ashes, ruining the drawing. “Sorry, Koshka.” I fall down on my bed. And then I become aware of the gaping hole in my chest again. It's more present than ever, it almost feels tangible, and it feels like I'm eaten from the inside... then it's gone, just as soon as it came. But in that short amount of time, my body has made the decision for me. Whether I like it or not, I choose Thorin. I need him. Surprised and glad about that sudden certainty, I get up and run out of the door.

A while later, I'm standing in front of Thorin's door. I've been here a few times before, but this time certainly feels different. I gather my courage for a moment; the guards, standing on both sides of the door, don't pay attention to me anyway, but are standing straight and staring forward, as always. Then I knock on the stone door thrice, each knock too loud to my ears. I hope he is at home, but he probably will be, for outside the dusk is already starting to fade into darkness.

The butler opens the door after a few seconds. He shows me in and I pace up and down the room while waiting for Thorin. I try to think about what I should say to him. Dang it, I should have prepared myself for this better. But if I'd had any ideas already, I'd forgotten everything by now, for Thorin comes into my vision. He seems to be more handsome than I remember, though I have seen him just a few days ago. A smile enlights his face when he sees me. “Sofie!” he says. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I was planning on bringing it subtly, I really was, but when I open my mouth, I have no control of the words streaming out. The result: dramatic. “I know it's you who's been watching me for months now.” Well, there's no turning back now, that's for sure. Thorin looks at me as if I just hit him square in the face. “I... I don't know what you're talking about,” he tries, but fails miserably. “Thorin, I'm not mad at you,” I say. “I just want to know... _why_ , Thorin? I want to understand, because I have thought about it and thought about it, but I just don't get it. _Why_ would you do something like that?”

For a moment, I seem to have lifted his defences. “Because I...” he starts. But then he changes his stance, like he's preparing for an attack. “What concern is it of yours? I'm the _king_ , I do whatever I want! Nobody can tell me what to do!”

I had never expect that. I thought he would explain everything, maybe even tell me he loves me, but now he is all but yelling at me. I really, really fucked up. And I really, really should have prepared better for this, whatever _this_ may be. “Thorin, please,” I try. “I didn't want to offend you. I just...”

“You just _what_?” I should tell him the truth, but I can't seem to be able to do that right now. Not like this.

“It's... it's my magic. I can't control it, and I thought it was harmless, so I wanted to know, if it was that or that is was... really you.” There, half truth, half lies. Good enough for the moment, because I really don't see another way out right now. But it only seems to aggravate Thorin more.

“You have _magic_ and you _don't know_ if it's dangerous? And you tell me now?!”

“I'm sorry Thorin, I really am, I just thought-”

“No! You don't _think_ , Sofie, you just do your work! _I_ am the king and you should have told me the moment you became my _subject_!”

“Oh, it's going that way, then? You are just going to ignore the fact that I'm not your _subject_ , but your _friend_?”

“Do not think you are any better than anyone else! You're all the same! You're all SUBJECTS of ME!” Well, if Thorin thinks he can yell at me, I can yell at him.

“So I'm a mere subject, huh?! Do you follow every subject for months in a row, while you are too cowardly to even show your face, lurking in the shadows whenever I so much as look your way?! Don't think I never noticed you _fleeing_ from me like a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar! And don't think I don't know _why_! I only asked you because I wanted to hear it from your own mouth, in your own voice! And I might, _might_ just have given you a chance. But you know what, you wasted it! The chance you just had, was your _only_ chance, and you ruined it. With flair.” The latter came out with a voice sharp as a knife.

With that, I storm out, and as soon as I pass the door, my cheeks are getting wet of my tears. _“Oh, great, Sofie, really well done,”_ I scold myself. _“Why do you always have to cry after a fight?”_ Before I turn around the corner, I hear Thorin yell something at me in Dwarvish, but I can't make out the words. Then again, I might not want to, for it sounds terrible and can't've meant anything good anyway.

\--

I really don't want to be alone right now, so I go to the only person who might be able to understand me. I walk through the now nearly empty mountain and reach Bofur's doorstep. I knock and a few minutes later I'm sitting in a comfortable chair with a steaming mug of tea, and most of my tears have dried up.

“Now tell me what happened,” Bofur says. So I tell him the whole story. I tell him about the long months when I felt a mysterious gaze upon me. I tell him about how I found out it was Thorin. And, at long last, I tell him about the confrontation and how it became the catastrophe it is now. “And then I just turned around and ran away, and he screamed at me in Dwarvish and-” “In Dwarvish?” Bofur asks surprised, after he had sat and listened attentively. “What exactly did he say?”

I shrug. “I... I don't know, I don't understand Dwarvish, and it all went so fast.”

“Well, what did it sound like roughly?”

“I- I think it was something like... araline?”

“Amrâlimê,” Bofur corrects in a whisper. He heaves a sigh and rests his head in his hands.

“Yes, it did sound like that! What does it mean Bofur? Is it that bad? I _really_ fucked up, didn't I? Will I have to leave?”

“No, Sofie. You did nothing wrong, although it should have ended rather differently. Amrâlimê... how should I explain? It's and old word, very old, and it's very difficult to translate, but I think the meaning closest to it is something like 'my love', or 'my treasure'. It is used very rarely, because it means something so special and pure, and it should be handled with utmost respect. Especially between Dwarves and Not-Dwarves. You see, Dwarves are proud creatures, and they are proud of their language. We don't like to share it with outsiders. Well, that's an understatement. It actually is forbidden.

And the fact that Thorin, particularly _Thorin_ , of all the Dwarves in Erebor maybe the most proud of all, said _that word_ to _you_ , really means something. He genuinely cares about you, a lot, even though it may not seem like it right now. The coming few days he will still be too stubborn, but he will come _crawling_ back to you if he must, and soon, you mark my words.”

“But what if I'm wrong?” I ask. “What if I heard it wrong? I mean, it all went so fast and I was already running and maybe it sounds much like another word or maybe I said it wrong...”

“Sofie, there is no word in existance that sounds even a bit like it. I can assure you of that. You heard it correctly and you need to accept that. Now, only one question remains: do you feel the same for Thorin as he feels for you?”

“I don't know. I thought I knew, I thought I _did_ , but he really said some hurtful things. We both did. I don't know if I can forgive him for that, or he me, for that matter. And I'm not sure if I still feel the way I thought I did. Bofur, what must I do?”

“I think it was very brave of you to go to him in the first place. And you couldn't've seen his reaction coming, nobody could have. To be honest, I don't entirely understand it myself, and I know him for quite some years now. Maybe he's been rejected in the past, or maybe he was taken by surprise by your straightforward strategy. From the outside, he might seem solid and invulnerable, but from the inside he's as soft as the fur he wears.

Now, I will tell you what to do. Go home, take a hot bath, and get some sleep. When Thorin's cooled down, he'll come back for you to make amends, I swear on my hat. And if you stay calm, you two can talk about it, and maybe make it up. But that is entirely up to you. Now go, and be nice to yourself.”

I thank Bofur, give him a hug, and then I walk home. Koshka greets me enthousiastically. I can't help but thinking: _“At least_ she _does”_. And the tears return to my eyes once more. I do as Bofur said, and take a hot bath and then go to bed, but however tired I am, I can't get any sleep. I relive the past day over and over again in my thoughts, imagining how it would have ended if I had said something else, if I had reacted differently, if _Thorin_ had reacted differently. I don't fall asleep all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, I guess I'm sorry *hides in a corner and throws free tissues at angry people*  
> Thanks, though, for the kudos everybody ^^


	11. Chapter 10: To Touch, To Smell, To Hear, To Taste, To See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarves are very bad at timing. Very bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys!  
> This is the very last chapter of this story. Don't worry though, I am working at two other fics, both Bagginshield :) If you really don't want this story to end, though, you need only ask ;) thank you so much for every single kudos, and I even got a comment! Thank you guys, for all of that support, it made me so happy ^^ have fun reading the final chapter xxx

Day four. I'm about to fill the bathtub when I hear someone knocking at my door. It is so loud and sudden that I jump a little. I try to stay calm, but in vain, and after I take a deep breath I open the door.

It is Balin. Relieved and a bit disappointed, I let him in. “Balin! How are you doing?” I ask.

“Oh, I'm quite alright.” Balin answers. “But that's hardly of interest right now. The question is: how are _you_ doing? Nobody has seen you the past few days! Is something wrong?”

After a brief hesitation, I decide to tell him the whole story.

When I'm finished, Balin is looking at me, astounded. His eyebrows have raised higher and higher throughout the story. “Well,” he says. “I must admit I didn't see that coming. Are you-” but before he can finish his sentence, another knock reaches our ears. At least it's better to be startled together. “Quickly!” I say in a low voice. “Hide!” He jumps out of his chair and runs out of the room, with surprising agility for someone his age. I wait until I can't hear his movements anymore, then I open the door with my heart beating in my throat.

Again, I am both relieved and disappointed when it's not Thorin standing before me. This time, it's Dwalin. I all but yell at him: “Damn it, Dwalin! I thought you were Thorin! You can come out now, Balin!”

Confused, Dwalin walks through the door. Apparently Bofur hasn't told the story to my friends. I don't feel like telling everything again, so I let Balin do it for me. A bit nervous, I study Dwalin's face, because a few months ago, he threatened to kill me for exactly this. But when Balin finishes the story, he stands up and gives me a massive hug. “When you two have made amends, I wish you the best of luck,” he says.

I open my mouth to thank him, but a knock ruins my plans for a third time. Dwarves are damn bad at timing. Again, Balin runs out of the room, with Dwalin behind him. Now a bit more at ease, I open the door once more. But, like the first two times, it isn't Thorin standing there, but Bofur.

“Balin! Dwalin! You can come out!” I yell.

Bofur is glad to see them here, though, like me, disappointed about Thorin still not showing up. Of course I could go to him myself, but that didn't really work out the first time around, plus I am still not sure if I even _want_ to see him. No, if he still wants a chance, however slight a chance on that chance is, he will have to come to me.

“He just needs some time,” Bofur tells me. That doesn't help one bit to brighten my mood, so I retreat to the kitchen to grab some snacks. I put them on the table, and while the Dwarves attack my waffles, the lovely sound of deja vu – or rather, deja entendu – rings through the air. This time, the Dwarves don't even bother hiding, and I can't blame them.

A minute later, Fíli and Kíli are added to the group and told what happened. They look at me with sympathy and tell me it will all be alright, like everybody has, but I still have a hard time believing them.

“Look,” I say. “ it's very nice of you all to step by, and I really appreciate it, I really do, but what if Thorin shows up? It will be quite awkward with you lot sitting here.”

“Sofie,” Fíli says. “you haven't been outside of your house for three full days now. Today you will have some fun, it's what you deserve. And if Thorin does show up, we can always leave. Don't worry, it will all turn out fine.”

In the end, I give in, and the rest of the day I walk to and fro with food and drinks, helped every now and then by Fíli or Kíli. The hours fly by and soon the last ones of my friends leave. It's been a busy day, and I've gotten quite tired, but I'm thankful, because it's also been a great day and the fact that I had my hands full on a bunch of Dwarves has driven the thought called Thorin from my mind most of the time. Now all that's left is a pile of dirty dishes, but I don't really mind more work to keep my thoughts and hands busy.

When I finally put the last bowl in the cupboard, I have no idea what time it is, but then again, it doesn't really matter, because I _am_ sure that I should have gone to bed a long time ago. Well, I can't say I care, exhausted though I am.

But even the late hour doesn't stop _someone_ from knocking at my door. _“Okay, it was a great day, but right now I really want to go to sleep!”_ I think, irritated. I open the door and my mouth to tell them exactly that, but I quickly close the latter when I see who is standing on the threshold. With a bunch of flowers. I decide not to forgive him as easily as I might want to, though I have to admit that the flowers are beautiful. They have the colour of autumn, the time of the year I love most. But back to the subject.

I cross my arms and look up at his eyes.

“What do you want?”

It came out harsher than I meant it to, and I immediately feel guilty when I see Thorin wince a bit, but I don't let it show. Then, Thorin looks me in the eye and starts talking.

“I've been thinking about what I've said to you and have concluded that I was the one who was wrong, not you. I shouldn't have yelled at you, and I shouldn't have said the things I said, and I am sorry. I don't know why I did it; you suddenly confronted me with something I hate myself for, and I just... overreacted. I want you to know that I never... I have _never_ seen you as a...” he casts down his eyes before he goes on. “as a subject. You have been my friend from the beginning and I will always see you as such.”

_“A friend. Well, that's awfully clear.”_

It hits me like a punch in my stomach and I feel my hope shatter in a thousand little pieces. I have to try really hard to stop my eyes from watering. But Thorin hasn't yet finished his monologue. I wonder how long he has been studying on it.

“Sofie, I'm not asking you to forgive me, for you have every right not to, but-” I can't stand listening to him any longer and I interrupt him.

“Thorin, please stop.”

This time, he really winces. “I have no right to forgive you when I haven't made up for the things I said to you. You weren't the only one who was wrong. I said some hurtful things to you as well, and I am sorry for that. But what I am most sorry for is not what I said to you, it's what I _didn't_ say.”

Confused, Thorin looks up, clearly not sure at all if this was something good or something very bad.

“I lied to you, Thorin. Well, I didn't really _lie_ , I... just... twisted the truth.” Thorin can, apparently, still give me that look. “ _Okay,_ I lied. Do you remember what I said about the magic thing?” he nods. “I didn't exactly tell it the right way. I _do_ have magic, and it _is_ harmless,” _“in a way”_ “but it can't make anybody do anything against their will.”

“I'm not sure I follow,” Thorin says, confused. I guess I have to tell him everything then. Here goes nothing.

“The magic of the Värai is, bluntly said, emotion. When a Vära makes their masterpiece, it gets free. And once it's in the air, it... it speeds up her love and that from the person who loves her, or will love her.”

Thorin raises one eyebrow – he really needs to stop that, it's too sexy and it kills my ovaries – and looks about to say something, but I'm not finished yet. “I know that you just said you see me as a friend, so it clearly hasn't affected you, but I couldn't think of another reason why you... did what you did.”

Thorin takes a step closer to me – I take a step backwards.

“You said it can also affect _you_ ,” Thorin says. I nod. “Has it?” he asks. I can't think anything but _SHIT_ and _RUN RIGHT NOW._

But there is really nowhere to go; Thorin's broad figure is filling the doorway, leaving no room for me to dart past, and my house doesn't have any windows to jump out of. “Please don't make me answer that,” I all but plead him.

But he doesn't give in that easily. “We both said hurtful things to each other, and if we want things to be okay again between us, we have to be honest with each other. You lied to me, Sofie, and I believe I have the right to know the truth now. Has your magic affected you?” Thorin's gaze is so piercing that I can't resist it and I have to look down, but I can still feel its weight resting on me. “It's personal, Thorin. I don't have to answer that.”

“If you don't want to tell it to me to make up for lying to me, then tell me because I am your friend. Have we not shared more personal things than this? Please, Sofie, answer this one question: has it affected you?”

_“He's right, I should tell him. I guess I can't ruin our friendship any further than it already is, and compared to that, a bit of humiliation is nothing.”_

“It has.”

“Who is it?”

The question is no more than a whisper, and with a start I realise that Thorin is now standing right before me, just on the boarder of my personal space. I want to step back, to get away from him, but It's like I'm frozen to the ground. Still looking at my feet, I gather all the courage I have left, and answer him.

“It's you.” With those words, a tear finds its way out of my eye, and another as I feel a friendship sail away. But Thorin doesn't walk away, he doesn't hit me, he doesn't destroy me with words. He does none of those things. Instead, he hooks a finger under my chin and gently lifts my head up so I have to look into his eyes, and I immediately regret doing that, because I can't place the way he looks at me. I don't recognize it at all, I have never seen him look like that, and it scares me.

“Please just scrunch up your nose in disgust and walk away from me, because I don't know what that look means,” I say with a shaking voice.

But Thorin just strides right into my personal space, still with that look on his face. “It's a funny thing,” he says, “how love always starts with miscommunication and false presumptions.”

Realization hits me like a Dwarven headbutt, but I'm still not sure because I really can't think straight, for Thorin is still standing in my bubble, and his gaze is still too piercing, and he is so _close_! I can see every single lash, every shade in his eyes, every hair in his beard...

“Amrâlimê,” Thorin whispers, and then he comes even closer, slowly, still unsure. Time seems to stop for a moment and all I can hear is my blood rushing in my veins. The moment seems to last forever, but then I finally feel our lips touching, and it's the best thing I could ever have dreamed of. I feel my legs weaken under me and I wonder if I'll be able to keep standing, but then Thorin wraps his arms around me, and I do the same with him. Thorin is now all that is keeping me from falling, but it is enough. I suddenly become aware that I haven't been breathing, and I inhale Thorin's scent. He smells perfect, like pipeweed and stone and something else that is... just Thorin. I react to the tiniest flick of a tongue against my lips, and as I enter his mouth, a soft moan escapes his lips and makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Then I taste him, and he tastes exactly like he smells, like pipeweed and stone and like Thorin.

And when the kiss comes to an end I look into Thorin's eyes, and drink in the look that I now know; it is a look full of love and wonder.

And the hole in my chest vanishes like frost under the morning sun.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's how the story ends, after some weird mistakes I made while writing it (my heart beating in my trout. Yes, really), but that keeps it interesting for me as well :')  
> Again, if you want more, just ask me, and I'll write. Also, again, thanks for all the support! I love you guys! Take care xxx


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